


The Panties Problem

by mmmm1na



Series: Pink Satin [1]
Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Post-Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, bill is really into ted in panties, kinda a blow job i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmm1na/pseuds/mmmm1na
Summary: Bill catches sight of a lacy waistband peeking out of Ted's jeans one day, and then can not stop obsessing over it.  Bogus.
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Series: Pink Satin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944403
Comments: 33
Kudos: 236





	The Panties Problem

Bill catches sight of them one day when he and Ted are chilling on the couch, watching whatever is on TV and eating too much junk food. It’s a normal occurrence on their days off, and Bill is relaxing into the over-soft cushions when Ted leans forward to grab the bag of chips off the floor. It slips out of Ted’s grip, and Bill giggles as he watches Ted lean with a grumble to try to grab it with the tips of his fingers. Ted’s shirt rides up his back, and Bill’s eyes are caught by bright color that he can’t help but glance at.

There’s a strip of pink lace peeking out from the loose waistband of Ted’s jeans.

Bill stares at it until Ted leans back and it disappears under his shirt, at which point Bill shifts his gaze to Ted’s profile, eyes wide and shocked. Ted munches on his chips unknowingly until he catches Bill staring, and he turns to look at him.

“What’s up?” He says, crumbs falling on his shirt. Bill blinks and turns back to the television, swallowing thickly.

“Nothing, dude,” Bill responds quickly, taking a drink of his beer. Ted stares at him for a moment, confused, before shrugging and turning back to the TV.

Bill can’t concentrate on what they’re watching for the rest of the night, mind completely unable to think about anything but the pink color against Ted’s skin. He’s been lucky enough to see down babe’s shirts before and has seen their lacy bras, but never… never their _panties_. And Ted isn’t even a babe anyway, he’s a dude! But… He can be a pretty babe-ly dude, sometimes, Bill thinks to himself. What, he can admit to himself that Ted’s a babe! A dude babe. Babe dude?

After the third yawn in succession, Ted finally stands and stretches his hands over his head with a sigh, all long, lean lines as he mumbles something about going to sleep. Bill’s eyes are immediately drawn to where his tummy is exposed, soft skin and hair leading down into the waistband of his jeans. No lace, though, and Bill looks down at his hands before he gets caught, ears feeling hot.

He goes to sleep that night incredibly confused, the sound of Ted snoring softly from the other bed not lulling him into slumber like usual. He’s incredibly aware of Ted only a couple feet away from him, in nothing but baggy sleep shorts. Is he still wearing them? Is that why sometimes he sleeps in shorts instead of boxers?

Bill inches his fingers into his boxers and jerks himself off under the covers, listening carefully to make sure Ted doesn’t wake up, and bites hard at his lip when he comes all over his fingers.

\---

Time moves on, except that Bill can _not_ stop thinking about the concept of Ted wearing panties.

Everything is exactly the same, except that Bill is just constantly aware of Ted’s crotch in a way that he’s never been before. If Ted’s shirt rides up, Bill’s going to look. If Ted’s boxers aren’t showing above his waistband, Bill wonders. If Ted gets changed in the bathroom after his shower, Bill has to jerk off frantically when he takes his own. Bill’s dick is starting to get tender from how often he has to tug out a quickie- it’s _most_ egregious.

Bill gets his moment one day when Ted is changing in their room after work, and Bill is laying on his bed trying to read a magazine. The key word is _trying_ \- his eyes immediately zone in on Ted’s tummy when he pulls his shirt off, where there’s no visible waistband of his boxers. When Ted leans over to pick up a new shirt off the ground, there it is- the tiniest peek of the pink lace above his jeans. He had worn them to _work_.

Bill’s ears feel hot and he can’t stop staring at the smooth skin of Ted’s back, the little dimples that rest right above the pink fabric, and his mouth drops open, brain completely flatlined. When Ted turns around, pulling the shirt on, he catches Bill staring at him.

“Dude?” Ted says with a tilt of his head, confused, as he tugs his shirt down the rest of the way. Bill blinks, dazed, when the last bit of skin disappears, and finally looks up at Ted’s face. They stare at each other for a second.

“Dude, are you wearing panties?” Bill blurts out, and Ted freezes.

“Uh.” Ted stares at Bill like a deer caught in the headlights, hands clenching on the hem of his shirt. The silence in the bedroom is stifling.

“It’s cool, dude!” Bill quickly hurries on, sitting up so he’s not just laying on his bed like a dweeb while Ted stands awkwardly. “It’s totally cool! I just… I saw. And I was wondering, dude.”

Bill sees Ted swallow, his face nervous, and his eyes are drawn to where Ted is fidgeting with his shirt. Then, of course, his eyes drop for a second to Ted’s crotch. _He’s wearing them,_ his brain informs him, thanks brain, before he forces his eyes back up to Ted’s face. Ted’s staring at the floor, not making eye contact, so he doesn’t catch Bill in his moment of weakness. Bill feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust, his face is so hot. 

“I… yeah, dude,” Ted says in a small voice, his face pink. “I found them in my laundry one day and I put them on as a joke but... Dude, they’re actually kind of… nice?”

Bill swallows thickly and forces himself to nod. “That’s cool, dude, It’s totally cool. I was wondering where you would have gotten them, so uh… that answers that, I guess.” 

Ted nods, and Bill nods back, and then they get stuck in an silly, awkward loop where they’re both avoiding eye contact and nodding to each other; it’s _most_ non-non-non- _non_ -heinous. Bill looks up at Ted finally, and Ted looks like he wants to sink through the floor, embarrassed and hot in the face, hiding behind his bangs. Bill feels like a dickweed; he never wanted to make Ted feel _bad_ about it.

“Ted,” Bill says, getting up off the bed to stand in front of his friend. Ted still doesn’t look at him, and Bill feels like an utter asshole. He puts his hand on Ted’s shoulder, and ducks his head to try to catch Ted’s eyes. “Dude, I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

Ted shrugs, glancing up at Bill with a weak smile as he says, “It’s cool, Bill. It’s weird, anyway.”

Bill shrugs and squeezes Ted’s shoulder, eyebrows drawing together. Making Ted feel like he was weird hadn’t been his intention at _all_. “If you like ‘em, dude, it’s not weird.”

Ted grins and shrugs again, though he’s still curled in on himself and red in the face, and Bill knows he’s partially putting on the smile for show. Bill quirks his mouth in a little smile, trying to lighten the mood, and raises an eyebrow. “Wanna jam a little?”

Ted’s smile changes into something real and he nods, turning to go into the living room, and Bill’s hand slips off his shoulder. Bill takes a deep breath in and sighs, still feeling bad that he bummed his friend out, and follows him out of the bedroom. Who could blame him when his eyes drop to Ted’s ass when he bends over to grab his guitar?

\---

A couple weeks pass, and Bill sees neither hide nor hair of that tantalizing little strip of pink. As a matter of fact, it seems like Ted is _only_ wearing boxers, now. He never sleeps in shorts anymore, and whenever Bill’s eyes catch on Ted’s skin when his shirt rides up, Bill can always see the peek of blue or green or white cotton. There’s absolutely no pink _anywhere_.

Bill crosses his arms as he thinks about the situation, leaning against the counter at work. It’s slow, and his other coworkers are chatting quietly, leaving him to his own devices. The sounds of the mall around their stall are a quiet murmur, like the babbling of a brook, or something. Bill’s not sure he’s ever seen a brook, but it sounds about right.

It seems as if Bill noticing that Ted was wearing panties made him _stop_ wearing them, which is _most_ odious. Bill never wanted to make Ted feel embarrassed about something he liked; Bill _never_ wants to do that, ever. Ted’s his best friend, and he accepts him however he wants to be, even if he likes to wear girl underwear sometimes. _Especially_ if he likes to wear girl underwear, if he’s being honest with himself.

So, what should he do? Bill squints and furrows his brow as he thinks, staring into the middle distance. How does he get Ted to realize that he doesn’t care about him wearing panties sometimes? The other question, the one that focuses on how Bill lets Ted know that he maybe likes it _too_ much, is a problem for future Bill. Right now, he just needs to figure out how to make Ted comfortable again. His own inability to stop jerking off over his best friend in pink lace is his own problem.

Bill snaps out of his daze when one of his coworkers asks him something, and he pushes it to the back of his mind for the rest of his shift, pondering over it when he has a free minute.

When he’s finally done, feet sore and smelling of dough, he meanders slowly towards the exit of the mall, picking at a pretzel he snatched on his way out. He’s just casually looking around, people watching, when he turns a corner and there it is. 

The pink storefront of Victoria’s Secret.

Bill always sends an appreciative glance towards the photos in the windows (he is _always_ down for a good ogle at some smoking hot babes), but now he blushes to the tips of his ears, the sudden and intrusive image of Ted in one of the lacy pairs of panties pushing its way into his mind. He’s glad for his loose overshirt and jeans, because he chubs up immediately at the thought, feeling hot and embarrassed and like he’s seventeen all over again.

He stands there, off to the side of the walkway, shoving his pretzel in his face as an excuse so he doesn’t have to walk around with a stiffy. His eyes keep getting drawn to one of the photos, a model with long dark hair, and the rose pink underwear set she’s wearing, the white lace trim standing out against her tan skin. He’s shoving the last bite of salty dough into his mouth when the thought comes to him.

He should buy Ted some panties. 

_That’ll show him how cool I am with the idea of him wearing them!_ Bill thinks. It’s the perfect plan. Bill grins and walks over to the store with purpose, still a little pink in the cheeks but confident in his decision, and enters the nice smelling, pink domain of the babes.

He’s immediately overwhelmed. There are just _so many_ different types of underwear, and there’s _so_ many colors and styles. He bypasses the wall of bras, eyes catching on the ones with no cups, just little lacy triangles, before his eyes skip on to the silk teddies he’s only seen in porno mags.

He clears his throat awkwardly, feeling out of place in his baggy jeans and flannel, and crosses his arms as he walks over to a table covered in panties of all different colors and amounts of cloth. He feels hot under his collar, not even knowing where to start, and he stares down at the table with a furrow in his brow as he questions his decision to come into the store with every second that passes. He tries to focus on trying to find the ones he saw in the picture, but even that is difficult.

“Can I help you find anything?” A small voice chimes up from next to him, and he turns to see a petite girl smiling at him. A fresh flush washes across his face, feeling caught, but he smiles at her.

“Uh, yeah,” His eyes glance over to the table and back at her. “I am _heinously_ lost.”

“Buying something for your girlfriend?” She asks, and he nods quickly, happy for her assumption.

“Okay,” She says, coming up to stand next to him at the table. “Are you just looking for underwear, or do you want to get her a set?”

“A set?” He asks dumbly, uncrossing his arms to fidget with his sleeves.

“A bra and underwear set.” She says, and Bill feels like she might be laughing at him.

“Uh,” Bill blinks, thinking about the little lacy triangles he saw, before his brain snaps back into his head. “Uh, no, just… just underwear.”

“Alright,” she says, and she is _definitely_ laughing at him now. He doesn’t blame her. “Do you know her size?”

Bill blanks out, crossing his arms again as he thinks. “No but… She’s pretty narrow. Not a lot of hips, I mean. Maybe…”

He puts his hands out absentmindedly, like he’s holding something in front of him, and thinks of when he’s put his hands on Ted’s hips to steer him around or when they’ve wrestled. The shop girl looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Bill’s ears are roasting. 

“Maybe about that big?” He says, but it’s like a question, which is dumb. It’s not like _she_ knows. He quickly crosses his arms again and laughs awkwardly, feeling like a dweeb, and she smiles at him. Hopefully he’s not the _most_ odiously clueless “boyfriend” she’s ever had to deal with.

She hums under her breath and picks out a couple of pairs, and Bill peers over her shoulder, interested. She lays them out on the top of the table, and looks at him. “Do any of these seem right?”

He leans closer, taking one of them in his hands, trying to imagine it, thinking about the feeling of Ted’s hips under his hands. It should be okay, he supposes, and immediately gets distracted by the silky feeling of the fabric under his fingertips. He rubs the fabric for a second before realizing what he’s doing, and he tosses the pair back down like it’s on fire, clearing his throat awkwardly and reaching up to adjust his hat.

“Yeah, that seems good,” he says, gruffly. He _really_ doesn’t want to pop a boner right now.

“Alright,” the girl says, pressing her lips together for a second and turning to tuck away the other pairs she pulled out, grabbing a few more. “We have a bunch of styles and colors, do you have any idea of what sort of thing you’re looking for? Maybe what she likes?”

“I kind of liked… the one on the model, in the photo?” He asks, pointing at the big sign in the window. “And maybe another one like that in a different color?”

She nods, and ushers him over to another table, where stacks of pink and white lacy bits of fabric sit. There’s more colors there too, purple and baby blue, and Bill takes a deep, fortifying breath before coming to stand next to the girl.

He walks out of the store fifteen minutes later, pink bag with pink tissue paper in hand, feeling like he’s been wrung out like a wet towel. Who knew buying underwear was so stressful? Maybe that’s why babes always make a big deal out of who gets to see them in it.

\---

When Bill gets home, Ted is still at work, so Bill just puts the bag on the table in the kitchen and tries to forget about it. It looks almost hilariously incongruous with the rest of their apartment, a bright spot of pink in a sea of clutter and garbage. It’s shockingly feminine in their stereotypical twenty-somethings dude apartment, and Bill’s eye keeps getting drawn to it, no matter how hard he tries to stop looking.

He makes food and flips on the TV, grabbing his guitar to pick out little melodies mindlessly as he watches, just playing to turn his mind off and have something to do with his hands. He feels restless, itching out of his skin, and he finally heaves himself up off the couch to take a shower, hoping maybe it’ll help him finally relax.

Needless to say, it does not help him relax.

Bill only gets a few minutes of relief from his thoughts before the feeling of those panties he touched earlier worms its way into his brain. The thought of Ted wearing them, that silky feeling on his junk the whole day, hidden from everyone… Bill starts to get hard almost immediately. He groans, leaning heavily against the wall, and takes himself in hand.

It’s almost worse now, especially now that he knows what the panties look like, and how they _feel_. Before he just had that single tantalizing strip of lace but… what if Ted actually _wears_ the pairs Bill got him? Bill knows everything about them, right down to the little bow over the center-front of the waistband. He sighs as he jerks himself, imagining petting his thumb over the trail of hair on Ted’s belly down to that tiny bow, before he goes lower, tracing Ted’s cock through that silky smooth fabric all the way to the head. 

Bill chokes on a moan, breathing heavily, his hand speeding up. Would Ted ever let him touch? The soft fabric of the panties would be warmed by Ted’s skin, stretched over his cock and balls in an obscene way, little gaps where the lace doesn’t quite reach skin that Bill could slip his fingers in and touch. He thinks about the way Ted might shiver when Bill gets his face close, feeling the heat of his breath, wanting Bill’s mouth all over his cock, tucked tight in those silky panties.

Bill comes all over his fist with a grunt, hips twitching, and he pants into the steamy air of the shower, shivering through the aftershocks.

 _God_ , Bill thinks, closing his eyes. _This is so bogus._

\---

Bill chills out in their bedroom after his shower, getting distracted by a magazine he had left laying on the floor after he gets dressed in his sleep clothes, and ends up sitting there until Ted gets home. They call out greetings to each other, and Bill has completely forgotten about the bag he left in the kitchen until the soft sounds of Ted moving around the apartment stop completely. He throws the magazine down and practically vaults off the bed, almost losing his balance as he rushes out to see if that pause had been what he thought it was, and slams into the doorframe. So much for playing it cool.

Ted is staring at the bag, halfway through unzipping his hoodie, and he turns to Bill when he makes his explosive entrance.

“Dude… did you buy that?” Ted asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah,” Bill responds, swallowing thickly, judging every decision he’s made to get up to this point.

Ted’s brow is furrowed as he continues to pull off the sweater, staring at the bag. He finally turns to look at Bill. “Did you get stuff for the princesses? I don’t think they would appreciate you buying them lacy bits, dude, especially since we aren’t engaged to them any longer.”

Bill’s brain takes a second to catch up to this new path, completely out of left field, and his mouth opens and closes for a second before he finds the ability to speak. When he finally does, his voice is incredulous. “No way, dude! I got that stuff for you!”

Ted’s eyes go wide and surprised, and Bill thinks there maybe could have been a better way of going about this whole thing.

“I mean,” Bill continues, laughing awkwardly and walking over to where Ted is standing. “I just… Ted, I felt really bad the other day about making you feel… y’know, weird or whatever. I don’t ever want you to feel weird about anything with me, dude.”

Ted is still staring at him, but now he glances over at the bag, sitting innocuously on the counter. Bill looks at it too.

“You got stuff… for me, dude?” Ted says, voice quiet. His knuckles are white where he’s clutching at his hoodie in front of him, crumpled in his hands.

“Yeah. I thought… well, I noticed that you haven’t been wearing the… the pink ones,” Bill’s face feels hot, and Ted glances at him with a confused look, but Bill barrels forward, hoping Ted won’t catch that Bill just told him that he was _looking_. “And I thought, maybe… if I got you some nice new ones, not just a pair you found in the laundry, that it would show you that I’m totally cool with you wearing whatever type of underwear you want. Even babe’s, dude.”

When Bill looks at Ted, he has that soft look he gets sometimes, usually when Bill does something nice and unexpected. It always makes Bill feel embarrassed and unworthy, but also gives him the feeling that maybe, if Ted is looking at him like that, he’s done something to make him worth receiving that look in the first place. 

Bill reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, feeling awkward, and gestures at the bag. “Check it out, dude.”

Ted approaches and peers into the bag, hands moving aside the crinkling tissue paper gently, until he gets to the little, nicely wrapped pouch at the bottom. It looks so small and pink in his big hands when he pulls it out, but he unfolds the tissue like it’s something special, unwrapping it carefully so it doesn’t rip. Bill’s face is on fire at this point, and sees that even though Ted is hiding behind his bangs, his cheeks are flushed as well. Good to know that Bill isn’t the only one who feels like he’s about to spontaneously combust.

Ted stares down at the underwear once he’s done unwrapping, gently rubbing his fingers over the fabric, and Bill knows he’s feeling how silky they are, and how soft the lacy trim is. Ted looks up at Bill, eyes wide, eyebrows drawn up.

“These… they’re for me? No way, dude.” Ted’s voice sounds almost shy, a thread of incredulous excitement working it’s way in when he speaks, and Bill grins.

“Yes way, dude!”

Ted looks back down, a tremulous smile working it’s way across his face until he’s grinning brightly. He turns that smile on Bill, and Bill feels, suddenly, like all the embarrassment was worth it, just to make Ted smile like that. Ted jerks forward awkwardly to wrap his arms around Bill in a tight hug and buries his face in Bill’s neck, the tissue paper crinkling in his hand. Bill feels a hot, overwhelmed feeling filling him up, making his heart beat hard against his ribs, and he squeezes Ted back tightly.

\---

They don’t talk about it again after that night, Ted happily tucking the pink bag away on his side of the bedroom, but Bill still can’t stop thinking about it. The shower fantasy was just the beginning; his knowledge of exactly what the panties look and feel like is almost haunting him, worming its way into his brain at least once a day. If he thought his dick was chafed before… he wishes he could go back in time and shake himself.

The two of them are sitting on the couch like they always do, vegging out and cracking jokes about what they’re watching on TV, when Ted scratches at his tummy. His shirt rides up, Bill’s eyes snap to the exposed skin of his hip, and there it is.

A strip of white lace.

Bill’s face goes hot in seconds and he chubs up in his jeans, swallowing thickly. He takes a shaky breath, rubbing his palms over his thighs and trying to surreptitiously adjust himself under the guise of scratching. He can’t even go jerk off; both of them had already taken showers when they got home from work, and Bill might be weird, but he’s not going to take a second shower _just_ to jerk off over his best friend in panties. Even if they’re panties that _Bill_ bought for him.

_So bogus._

So, Bill does the next best thing. Possessing absolutely no brain to mouth filter, he says, “Dude, are you wearing them?”

Ted looks at him, surprised, and goes pink in the cheeks. “Yeah. How did you know?”

Bill shrugs, picking at a hole in his pants. “I saw when you just lifted your shirt up, dude.”

“Oh,” Ted says, and grins. “Want to see? They’re really nice. I dunno how you got my size so well, dude.”

Bill’s brain flatlines. Does he want to _see_ ? Of _course_ he wants to see, what sort of question is _that_?

“Yeah, why not,” He ends up saying, casually. He mentally pats himself on the back.

Ted tugs up the hem of his shirt so it’s resting on his belly, and Bill stares at the little line of hair below his belly button, disappearing into the waist of his jeans. The lines of Ted’s hips stand out, cutting lines of shadow against his soft tummy, and Bill wants to put his thumbs in them. Ted scoots his butt on the cushions to angle his body more towards Bill’s, and worms his own thumbs between skin and denim, wiggling a little as he tugs the loose fabric down slightly. 

The white lace is almost obscene, bordered by dark denim and tan skin, resting on the green couch cushions that are covered in crumbs and honestly a little stinky. It’s so delicate and feminine compared with everything about the way Ted holds himself, from his loose clothes to his masculine body, but surprisingly, it works. _Oh_ , Bill thinks, does it _work_. His chubby isn’t going away at _all_. He brings his leg up on the couch, knee bent, to turn towards Ted and tries to hide his hard cock in the folds of his jeans.

“Dude, they look good,” Bill says, with only a slight shake in his voice.

Ted grins, shrugging. “These are a lot nicer than the other ones, dude. They don’t ride up my butt as much, at least… and they’re so soft!”

“Oh yeah?” Bill says. He swallows thickly. “Can I… can I touch ‘em, dude?”

Ted blinks at him for a second, surprised, before he shrugs again. His hair whips around his face as he nods, and Bill hesitates just one more second before scoots forward a little, reaching out.

He almost blows his load right there at the feeling of the soft lace and silky fabric warmed by Ted’s skin. The calluses on his fingers snag a bit, and he apologizes under his breath before he presses his thumb into the dip of Ted’s hip covered by the lace, unable to resist, finger slipping slightly under the denim of Ted’s jeans.

Bill hears Ted’s breath catch, and he glances up at him. Ted’s staring at his face, cheeks flushed, and Bill can feel the dumb look he must have on, eyes hooded and mouth open as he stares. His cheeks feel hot, blinking slowly before looking back down at his fingers on the rose pink satin, and rubs his thumb along where the lace and fabric meet, inching closer to where that little bow sits, right in the front.

Bill glances at Ted’s jeans, finally ripping his eyes away from the panties, and sees that Ted is getting hard, almost hidden in the baggy fabric. He feels sweat prickle along his collar and hairline, his own cock ready to go now that he’s seen Ted’s chubby, and he forces himself to breathe.

“Can I see, dude?” Bill asks again, stupidly, hardly able to form words, knowing the question doesn’t really make sense. He’s already _looking_. Ted just bites his lip and nods, hands coming to the front of his jeans to unbutton them and pull the zipper down, and it's loud even over the sound of the television.

Bill looks up at Ted’s face again before he gets distracted by the reveal, trying to see if he’s taking things too far, but Ted just stares back at him, his mouth open and wet as he pants, face pink. Bill scoots forward a little and sighs as his jeans pull tight over his cock, pressing in a way that’s almost uncomfortable but _most_ excellent. Ted’s eyes dart down to look at his crotch, and Bill sees him swallow heavily when he sees Bill’s stiffy.

Bill finally looks down, and can’t help but groan.

Ted’s cock is hard in his panties, pressing against the pink satin and white lace, all framed by the vee of his open jeans fly. His dark bush edges out from the gaps in the lace where they pull away from his skin, the fabric hardly enough to cover everything properly, and Bill wants to push his fingers in, touching and stroking all those secret hidden places. His hand flexes on Ted’s hip, fingers wrapping around to squeeze, thumb pressing into the hollow of Ted’s hip again, and Ted moans softly.

“Dude…” Bill says, voice almost a whine, putting his other hand on Ted’s thigh. He feels it tense and relax under his hand, and he slides his palm up over the denim. Ted shivers under his touch, and Bill sees his hands flex where they’re resting on the couch before one comes up to clutch at Bill’s bicep. He stills, seeing if Ted is going to pull his arm away, but he just holds on.

“ _Ted_ , dude, can I-?” Bill says, voice breaking, and Ted nods enthusiastically.

Bill groans, and flops belly down to the couch, pressing his face against the silky smooth fabric against Ted’s cock.

Ted makes a shocked, squeaky noise, and his hands fly to Bill’s shoulders, gripping hard. Bill breathes deeply, his open mouth resting against the fabric, and Ted moans, hips twitching towards Bill’s mouth. Bill can feel how Ted’s thigh tenses where it’s pinned under Bill’s chest, and Bill moans in return, feeling desperate and hot. He nudges his nose against the hard line of Ted’s cock, the contrast of the hot skin covered by the silky fabric unrivaled.

“ _Bill_ ,” Ted gasps out, voice cracking around another moan, and Bill looks up at him, struggling to peel his face up, even for a moment. Ted’s face is so open and turned on as he looks down at him, eyebrows drawn together, cheeks so pink and sweet. Bill wants to make him feel _so_ good.

“Okay, dude?” Bill’s voice is so wrecked. He would laugh at himself for how eager he is if he wasn’t an inch from exactly where he’s been dreaming about for weeks. It’s a wet dream come to life, _literally_. 

Ted swallows and nods, hair falling in his face before he reaches it up to push it out of the way for once. Bill gets struck with the realization that Ted wants to make sure he can see Bill and what he’s doing, see Bill’s face pressed to his junk, and Bill moans desperately and leans back in.

Ted is so hot, his skin warm with arousal, and this close Bill can see a wet spot forming at the head of Ted’s dick, turning the satin dark and damp. Bill grips Ted’s hips, sliding his thumbs under the lace that borders the leg holes of the panties and down over the creases of Ted’s groin, where his legs and hips connect, gently stroking the sensitive skin. Ted’s thighs shake under his touch and his hips twitch up, and Bill nuzzles against his hard cock through the fabric.

Ted smells like clean dude, an undercurrent of musk cutting through the clean sweat and soap, and Bill presses his face closer, wanting to just breathe him in. Ted whimpers above him at the feeling of his hot breath, hands clutching at Bill’s shoulders and neck, and when his cock twitches next to his face, Bill moans.

All of the twitching and moving has nudged Ted’s cock into a more comfortable position, resting up towards his belly, and the wet, pink head stretches out the white lace waistband, peeking out like a little tease. Bill’s mouth waters, and he pushes his own hips against the couch cushions, needing some form of relief. 

He finally opens his mouth, breathing hotly over Ted’s cock through the fabric, and presses a sucking, wet kiss to the base of it. Ted makes a high, shocked sound at the heat of Bill’s mouth, and all Bill wants is to wring those noises out of Ted until he’s gasping with it. He licks over the satin, pulling it slightly with his tongue, nuzzling and pressing sucking kisses all over Ted’s cock and down to his balls. Ted’s making sweet little noises in the back of his throat now, highlighting his panting breath, but when Bill sucks on his sac through the satin, he lets out a loud moan, clutching tightly to Bill’s neck. 

Bill keeps pushing his hips down, the cushions too soft to provide any real pressure, but the friction of his boxers and the tight press of his jeans has him grunting as he drags his face back up, nuzzling against the side of Ted’s cock again. The pink satin is dark now with his saliva, plainly outlining the hot, hard line of Ted’s dick against the fabric. He brings a hand up to rub his thumb against the head of Ted’s cock, loving the feel of the lace against the silky soft skin. Ted gasps as Bill licks again, a desperate string _aah, ah, nnn_ wrung out of him as his cock gets even harder under Bill’s tongue, and when Bill presses a sucking kiss under the head, cupping the rest with his palm and squeezing, Ted tenses up, thighs shaking, and comes all over his tummy.

Ted shivers, his stomach heaving as he tries to catch his breath, hands clutching and releasing on Bill’s neck. Bill just nuzzles back into the silky fabric with a moan, breathing deep, and clutches at Ted’s hips while he rubs his cock down against the couch, so hard in his jeans, until he tenses up and comes in his shorts.

Bill breathes for a second, eyebrows drawn together, trying to collect his brain from where it flew out the window the second he saw a peek of lace. He hoists himself up onto his elbows shakily, and looks up at Ted.

Ted’s looking at him, pink in the face and still breathing heavily, his mouth wet and red. He’s _so_ incredibly attractive, Bill thinks. A babe-ly dude, for sure. Bill hopes that he can actually get Ted’s dick in his mouth, next time. 

They look at each other for a moment, brains running on auxiliary power due to their orgasms, and finally Bill says, voice rough, “That was most excellent, Ted, my friend.”

Ted nods slowly, petting his hand up to rub his thumb over the sharp line of Bill’s jaw. “Bill, my friend? It most certainly was.”

They stare at each other for another moment, smiles breaking out over both their faces, and they air guitar, laughing. Bill hoists himself up with a grunt, grimacing at the mess in his shorts, and leans in for a kiss. Ted’s lips are soft and eager against his own, and he cups Bill’s head, petting through his hair.

When the pull apart with a wet noise, Bill feels like he has a dopey look on his face, smiling and pink in the cheeks. Ted smiles back, and says, "Dude, you were really into that, we're you?"

Bill feels his ears get hot, and he grumbles out a "shut up, Ted," before leaning back in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed! I had a brain blast from a dumb tweet and then wrote this in less than 48 hours because I just couldn't resist. Come yell at me on twitter (@minacoleta) about B&T if ya like!


End file.
